Wake
by Bardic Jester
Summary: The first funeral surprised everyone. The second one was less of a shock. The third one felt like the natural conclusion. It was an inevitability during the year of death. Geoff's mother used to say that bad things always come in threes. A short reflection on life, love, and death.


Wake

Geoff leaned over the balcony of his hotel room in a black suit. Between his fingers, he held tightly onto a polaroid picture. It flickered in the wind, trying to slip out of his grasp. His knuckles were white from his grip. He was not going to let it go.

It was a cold fall night. From his balcony, he could see the winding freeway stretch out into the distance. A sea of headlights passed by in waves. In the distance, the city radiated a muted orange glow. Every couple of minutes, another plane flew overhead and the hotel shook.

Geoff stood silent. He drank beer alone, watching over the street below. He was done. Three funerals in one year. It was enough.

The first funeral surprised everyone. Tyler was a fun loving guy. People knew him as cheery and lively. No one expected him to go out that way. Geoff remembered feeling sick when he first heard about it. The fact that Lindsay was the one to find him. How could he do that to her? How? It made no sense to Geoff. It angered him that Tyler would choose that way out. Everyone was so somber at the service. They shared pleasantries, and pretended like they were all still friends. Geoff went out with Trent and DJ. They caught up with each other. Three guys drinking all not to remind themselves the reason for their visit.

The second funeral was less of a shock. They all saw how he was doing at Tyler's memorial. Duncan looked different. He was paper thin. His skin looked sickly yellow. When he spoke, his arms shook slightly. He always seemed on edge. Geoff barely recognized him at first. It felt like his friend was disappearing in front of him. Like if Geoff reached forward and touched him, he would turn to dust. It was a painful sight. There was a clock that hung over his head. You could not ignore it. No person can survive like that. No one. Duncan's service was nearly unbearable. The tension was palpable. Everyone had seen what Duncan had turned into, but no one did anything. They let their friend keep down the path towards the cliff. There was an unsaid truth sticking to the back of their minds: it was partially their fault. It was not a fault by action, but by omission. They failed to act. No matter how Geoff tried to justify it, he still felt like shit.

After Tyler's funeral, Geoff did not invite Duncan to drink with him. Geoff thought Duncan would bum them out. Now, he would never get a chance to have that drink. Never.

It was hard to say whether Total Drama played a role in their deaths. Surely, it must have had some effect. It changed their lives for the better and the worse. It resembled a small explosion. Like having a sudden child. There was a burden put on their shoulders. An expectation by strangers when they walked by. Tyler had always been emotionally unstable. Duncan was troubled for years. It must have cut deeper into them. Geoff wondered what it did to him.

Unlike the others, the show helped Geoff. His short time as a tv announcer, and his job as a journalist was all thanks to the show. He had a marketable name. A brand people were interested in. It caused jealousy among some of the contestants. Many did not speak to him. Some looked away from his gaze. Everyone spoke behind his back. He knew that. It was okay. He did not let it get him down. He would do the same.

Still, there was a hole in his life. He put away a feeling years ago. It was only a dream now. Something to make him smile and to pass the time on an airplane. A pleasant passing thought that only comes to him when there is nothing else. And there rarely is nothing else. He kept himself busy. There was always something to do. There was always a distraction to keep him away.

The third funeral did not surprise him. It felt like the natural conclusion: an inevitability during this year of death. There had to be one more. His mother used to say that bad things always came in threes. But, it still hurt. It hurt like nothing else he could describe. He began to cry like a child. Please, he begged, tell me how to stop this. If there was something more he needed to do. If there was some atonement he owed the world, let him give it. He was done. He was done.

The third death was different from the others. A freak accident, it was ruled. An unlikely event that was unprecedented on that beach. The wave had to be the right size. The wind had to be the right direction. An inch or two to the right and it would have been completely different. The injuries would have been minor. But, that's not how it played out. All of the elements were perfect. No one, no matter how experienced, could have done anything about it. It made life feel that much more unfair.

After it happened, there was a media storm. Experts were brought in. Journalists took the story and ran with it. Geoff had to throw away his phone to avoid the calls. Everyone wanted to know what he thought. They were so interested in getting the scoop, they forgot about the tragedy at hand. That a life was lost. It made Geoff question whether being a journalist was right for him. There must be something better.

At the third funeral, no one said anything. There was a constant silence through the room. Courtney gave a touching eulogy. People cried. Geoff covered his face with his hat, ashamed of his face.

He held tightly onto the polaroid. The wind kept blowing, on that hotel room's balcony. It kept blowing. It kept going on. Why? Why did the wind get to continue? The cars kept driving by. The world was unaffected. Nothing cared. Nothing. He squeezed as tightly as he could to the polaroid, terrified that it would slip away.

He never expected Chris' death would affect him like this. That bastard. He died the first time he tried surfing. What a joke. He was taking lessons at Bridgette's school.

At first, when Geoff was told someone died surfing at her school, he thought it was her. He thought he lost her. He thought she was gone. That he would never have another chance to see her, to talk to her, to laugh with her, to touch her.

The way Chris died. It could have happened to anyone. No one, no matter how experienced, could have survived it. It was where he was and when. That's how fragile it can be. How little there needs to be for it to be over. And then there's nothing. Geoff never liked Chris. But, he was not all bad. Chris was the reason they were all brought together. He was the one who kept bringing them back. He never let Total Drama go, despite the contestants insistence of it. Geoff would not describe Chris dying as losing a friend. It felt closer to losing an uncle or a godfather. Someone you always expected to be there at your back, or at least expected to be there for a little bit longer.

It made Geoff reflect on that hole in his life. The fact that he kept everyone at arm's length. His decision to live in hotel rooms crossing the globe. The unfettered denial of love. Where did it come from? What was he searching for in his life?

Who was Bridgette? Would he let her slip away from him? like Tyler? Like Duncan? Like Chris? It's not like Bridgette hurt him. He was the one who let her down. He said to her that it was not going to work. They were not meant to be together. She would meet someone better. Maybe that was true for her. But, he knew, deep down, that it was not true for him.

Those days they were together stretched out like a panorama in his memory. He could remember so vividly small things, like the way she used to brush her hair in the morning. The time she stubbed her toe. When they spent an afternoon in the park. Geoff had visited over a dozen countries. He interviewed world leaders. He reported from war zones. And, yet, those memories blurred together. He remembered days with Bridgette better than years of his life.

When he was first told of Chris' death, and he believed it might have been her, he realized something. He did not want that to be it. He did not want just those memories. He wanted more. He needed more. He could not let that be it. He was not going to accept that. There must be more. He was not going to let it slip out of his grip.

Three funerals in one year. He was done. It was enough. He was done with death. He was ready for life. He was ready to face life again.

"Hey," Bridgette said. She poked her head out of the door. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Geoff said. He smiled at her, and let go of the polaroid.

…

Author's Notes

I hope you liked it.

Please Leave a Review

Thanks. BJ.


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